The Emperor Reigns Them All Chapter 170 The Person Who Goes to the Battlefield

The long sword of the black-robed Taoist hung over Zhao Polu's head, and his action paused. His features stiffened immediately as the crossbow shot through his throat flying dozens of steps behind his head. Before he struggled to make a sound, he flew backward because of the great power of the crossbow. He fell on the ground heavily, causing muddy water everywhere.

"You..." The Taoist let out a fuzzy voice, struggling to raise his upper body. Before he could say the second word, he fell feebly without any movement.

Zhao Polu stood up and took back the long spear that had been with him for years. He stood still in the night rain in the wilderness, his body as straight as a javelin.

The heavy rain surrounded him, and his companions and enemies lay dead on his sides.

The night wind was very cold, but it took a very long time to cool down his hot body because his blood was boiling inside him.

Zhao Polu looked up at the boundless night sky. There were no stars on a night of thunder and rain, so it was bound to be dark before his eyes. His eyes were not bright, mixing with sadness that could not be dissolved.

He could not see the light beyond the night, and he could only see his comrades who had died in battle.

He seemed to see thousands of troops roaring and galloping in the grasslands.

The Black Office entered the east territory of Qing Prefecture, sent invitations widely, and raised the dispute with Penglai Taoist sect. The game was everywhere, rival shows were put on in different places, and a melee was a common occurrence.

But it was the first time they had been trapped on halfway. The other side dispatched two cultivators in high-level Qi-refining and used nearly three times forces to siege and kill all Zhao Polu's attendants.

Among the four cultivators with high-level Qi-refining in the Black Office, Zhao Polu had the lowest cultivation and weakest strength. On that day, he fought Liu Dazheng in Huangli County, but he was hit badly by only one strike of Liu Dazheng and lost his fighting ability instantly. However, it didn't mean that Zhao Polu was easy to deal with.

Zhao Polu gathered up the corpses of the swordsmen of the Black Office and dug a big hole by the road.

Dropping his long spear, he picked up his companions' bodies and put them in the hole one by one, putting them in order, shoulder to shoulder, foot to foot.

He even knelt beside them to help them straighten their robes.

The bamboo hats were put on his companions' chests, and the long knives were placed beside their hands.

He cut down many branches and leaves in the forest to cover their bodies tightly with no gaps. And then he piled up the wet mud and made a grave.

Zhao Polu was meticulous in his movements just like he buried his comrades' bodies on the battlefield in the past.

Standing in front of the grave, Zhao Polu kept silent.

He thought of the bloody scenes on the battlefield. In those days, he had buried many of his comrades.

The captain who took care of him like a brother, the team leader who laughed without front teeth, Gouwa who had shared a steamed patty with him, Erdan who always stuck with him, the valiant generals who were praised by the commissioner with him, the leader who fought side by side with him to destroy half the one-hundred-people team of the prairie savages over dozens of kilometers...

Some of their heads couldn't be found because they were cut off by the prairie savages; some of them were blasted to pieces by the cultivators of the savages so that their bodies were all incomplete; some of them died with wide eyes, showing their panic for dying.

They had white-haired parents, babies to feed, and wives who were waiting at the door for their returning...

The desert was Zhao Polu's battlefield, and the desert imperial court was his target. Day and night, he thought of his army could achieve the greatest glory.

But now, he arrived at Pinglu. In this completely irrelevant place, he became a Jianghu killer, facing a group of mysterious Jianghu Taoists.

Life was always unpredictable.

Zhao Polu took out a wineskin and sprinkled wine in front of the grave. At last, he left a little wine and raised his head to drink it all in one gulp.

Finishing these, Zhao Polu silently ducked his head and put on the bamboo hat. In the heavy rain, he turned around decisively to leave the grave without looking back.

Walking on the official road, Zhao Polu rushed through the rain, carrying a seriously injured swordsman on his back.

He spent too much time on disposing of his companions' bodies. The time when he arrived at his destination was drawing nearer and nearer, so he had to use all his skills.

The Wukong Sword Sect which was dozens of kilometers away was the battlefield of his trip.

He was alone and was carrying a seriously injured companion on his back.

But he had to go.

As a fighter, whether he had his comrades by his side or not, no matter what his comrades had become, he had to go to the battlefield on time as long as he had breath.

He held the long spear firmly, stood and fought, went all out, and never stopped fighting until he died.

No matter what kind of battlefield it was, whether he liked the opponents or not, whether he had a chance to win or not, he had to go to the battlefield.

If he was alive, he would live with his comrades; if he died, he would die with his comrades.

Go to the battlefield!

...

Five kilometers away from the mountain foot of the Qingshui Villa.

Several swordsmen in cyan were running quickly through the rain.

Dozens of gray-robed cultivators were chasing after them.

The first swordsman in cyan covered his waist tightly, and his blood kept flowing from between his fingers. He clenched his teeth and buried himself in running forward without looking back. His footprints were straight in lines in the mud behind him.

Among the footprints, a drop of scarlet blood was particularly eye-catching.

The chasing gray-robed cultivators fanned out and ran forward like two opening wings to encircle the swordsmen in cyan.

There was only the sound of rain and footsteps, and no one spoke.

The fleeing swordsmen of Black Office didn't speak, while the chasing gray-robed cultivators had no nonsense, too.

If the swordsmen in cyan ran fast enough, they would escape, while if the gray-robed cultivators chased fast enough, they would lay siege to the swordsmen. The situation was obvious, so there was no need to waste words and energy.

When Chen Beiwang and Mu Qingliu arrived at the Qingshui Villa, they stayed outside the villa to monitor it. The Black Office that made sure their action after three days suffered a sudden attack.

If the Black Office hadn't responded quickly and retreated to fight their way out in time, they would be dead once the other side formed an encirclement.

But now, he had just escaped down the mountain. More than twenty gray-robed cultivators were chasing after them, several times the number of them. Moreover, their cultivation was not lower than theirs and some cultivators had higher realm among them, but they didn't make any move for the time being. When the distance was close enough, they would probably launch the deadly attack.

One injured cultivator of the Black Office staggered accidentally and fell on the ground.

He was badly injured and lost a lot of blood, so he couldn't control the balance of his body. When he fell, instead of getting up to flee, he turned to jump backward. The long knife slid in a graceful arc, a white light appearing in the dark, rainy night. Also, he rushed towards the gray-robed cultivators!

He had no chance of escape, so if he continued to make useless efforts, he would only bring trouble to his companions.

It was a felony to bring trouble to his companions in the Black Office.

Turning back to kill the enemy and taking the initiative to cover to win a living chance for his companions was a great achievement in the Black Office.

While this swordsman in cyan pounced backward, his companions didn't stop and look back, and they ran even faster.

Only silent tears were falling in the air and mixed with the rain.

The swordsman at behind fell on his face towards the ground after he killed one person by the sneak attack and perished together with one person. He was blown to pieces of meat by the gray-robed cultivators who flocked there.

However, the other swordsmen in cyan did not escape the pursuit of the gray-robed cultivators because of this.

Seeing the pursuers getting closer and closer, the leader in the crowd gritted his teeth and turned to kill the gray-robed cultivators!

As a team leader, he was to blame if the mission failed; as a team leader, he could not bear to see his companion die in front of him.

This leader had killed three people.

His strength was naturally better than that of the injured swordsman who died first, and he was in his best state. However, the opponents had been prepared after experiencing the injured swordsman's counter-attack. If he were not holding the will to die and hadn't determined to die with the enemies, the leader would be unable to kill three people.

But this would not be enough.

The two swordsmen had killed five people, which fueled their hatred instead of causing a fundamental blow to the pursuers.

In the blink of an eye, only two swordsmen were still fleeing.

On both sides, the two-winged formation was closing in and about to encircle them.

The two swordsmen looked at each other and felt the determination of each other.

They suddenly stopped, turned around, pulled out their knives, and ran forward!

Since they couldn't escape and had to die, rather than being attacked and killed from behind, it was better to face the enemies and fight till death.

When the gray-robed cultivators saw that they dared to turn around, they were furious and jumped out one after another. Techniques were about to be launched.

A strange syllable suddenly sounded in the wilderness as a drop of rain fell on the knife of the swordsman in cyan.

As soon as the syllable sounded, it continued, like a mountain stream pouring down and a river flowing endlessly.

The night wind suddenly became extremely cold.

The falling rain turned into ice in the air and fell like hailstones, making shallow pits on the ground. When it fell on the gray-robed cultivators, it shot like an arrow, making them bleed!

The muddy water under the feet of all the gray-robed cultivators turned into ice flowers in an instant and froze their feet and continued to their legs, waists, hands and necks quickly!

In an instant, those who had jumped in the sky fell heavily; those who had lifted their feet to run fell over on their faces; those who stood on their feet stood stiff as a stone.

Every gray-robed cultivator had become an ice sculpture, and none of them could move!

Before they were all covered by ice, they looked up in astonishment and saw a beautiful ethereal figure playing the jade Xiao in her hands on the top of the trees not far away.

They couldn't see her face clearly, but they remembered her graceful gesture.

Only a few gray-robed cultivators thought of a legend that had disappeared in Jianghu for several years as they heard the sound of her Xiao, which made them desperate. "If you haven't experienced the Coldness of Yi River, you can't know its coldness. The sound of jade Xiao will make a hundred ghosts return!"

The two swordsmen in cyan turned around, cupped their hands, and bowed down. "Chief!"

She put down her jade Xiao from her mouth's side and looked at the direction of the Qingshui Villa with bright lights through the heavy rain. Her tone was colder than the freezing night. "Whoever dares to hurt the men of the Black Office will pay the price that he will remember all his life!"

Chapter end